


Going Undercover with Steve- Marseilles

by caleprwrite



Series: Plus Size Reader [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Almost lovers to friends to something more, Assassins & Hitmen, Cleo just wants to forget, Dom!Steve, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fluff, Hair Pulling, Happy Ending, Late Apology, Minor Character Death, Morning Wood, Mr. and Mrs. Smith undertones, NCIS storyline if you squint sideways, Nightmares, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve, Rough Sex, Smut, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Super Soldier Serum, Undercover, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, plus size OFC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caleprwrite/pseuds/caleprwrite
Summary: - Imagine you go undercover for an assignment with Steve Rogers. -After being voluntarily reassigned to a desk after the Battle of New York, Cleo is pulled back into field duty six years later per the request of Captain Steve Rogers himself. Call her old fashioned, but when Captain America asks you to serve, you serve.She's an executive level data analyst, the best in the agency according to Hill, but when Cleo dives deeper into the files for her assignment with Rogers she finds something that may make a successful mission almost impossible for her. Thankfully she's got some massively unhealthy coping skills, the likes of which impress even Natasha Romanov.Steve's got his own revelation and he's not sure Cleo will want anything to do with him after he comes clean. Just maybe they can be a hot mess together.





	1. An Unexpected Assignment

“Yes ma’am,” Cleo replied as confidently as possible though internally, her mind was scrambling to process everything. She reached up to fiddle with the cross on her necklace but corrected herself halfway up, stilling her hands instead. She was trying to break the habit of messing with her jewelry when nervous- it was too easy a tell.

“Remember,” Hill advised in the signature Absolutely-No-Bullshit tone Cleo had come to appreciate, “the success of this mission depends on the two of you convincing the contact that you’re married assassins that will do  _ anything _ to get out after this last job. We don’t know why they wanted out so bad all of a sudden. Just that they did.”

She nodded in understanding and shifted her small bag of personal items on her hip. It was her first undercover assignment at SHIELD. Hell, it was her first _ field  _ assignment of any kind in almost six years. 

Hill said he asked for her specifically. Well, color Cleo surprised. She didn’t even think Captain Rogers knew she existed outside of handling his recon analysis and briefings. Not that he ignored her, the man had manners after all. But to herself, especially after all this time off field duty, she was just… Cleo. 

Cleo from Admin.

“Understood. I won’t let you down, ma’am.”

Working as a Senior Executive Analyst at SHIELD had been rewarding. She knew her work was making an actual difference in the world and not many people could honestly say that. Working directly for Hill made her professional life even more enjoyable. Hill was a strong woman who worked her ass off to get where she was as Assistant Director, and Cleo had nothing but respect for the woman. 

At thirty-one, Cleo’s administrative position with Hill was also about as close to the fray as she thought she'd ever get again- and she was good with it. That was kind of the point when she changed divisions, though it wasn’t unheard of for agents in administration to be assigned field duty if the situation called for it. 

Hill regarded her before sighing almost imperceptibly. Her tone softened just enough for Cleo to catch, but still easy enough for the average person to miss.

“The remainder of your briefing will be available by the time you join Captain Rogers and the others in Marseille. We don’t have anything else available at this time, so see what you can uncover on your way. Nobody does that better than you.”

An enormous grin threatened to break across Cleo’s lips, but she kept her expression schooled. That was the biggest compliment she’d heard Hill give to anyone, and coming from her it spoke volumes. Hill met her eyes and a corner of her mouth twitched in approval as she nodded before returning to the files in front of her.

“Dismissed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Cleo spun smartly on her heel and made her way to the equipment room in the basement levels. 

Once alone in the elevator, she clicked the tab to open the preliminary file on her assignment, skimming the details of the would-be assassins she and Rogers would impersonate.

A married couple. Her interest was piqued, to say the least.

Photos showed the wife had warm-toned skin and was tall. A couple of inches taller than Romanov or Maximoff, but about her own height. She was soft and above average in build, but certainly not so much that they couldn’t  _ fake _ the additional weight for Carter. If Cleo were still active in the field she'd definitely be first choice based on physical appearance alone. 

She moved on to the rest of the detail they had and recognized the agencies the man and the woman once worked for as rivals. A few years into their tenures, each was assigned the same target and through that process they found out the other’s true identity. After each respective agency burned them, they went after both original employers together. Soon after they were released and taken up on contract by Hydra, who they’d worked with ever since.

None of the lower level agencies had the balls to bother with them after that affiliation. At least that was the case until they ended up in the morgue at SHIELD. 

Lucky break, having their bodies on hand. Made it easier to identify details for more convincing undercover work; replicate fingerprints and retina scans, along with other specific physical characteristics. 

According to the dossier, the wife had hazel eyes, long brunette hair and spoke english, spanish and french fluently; check, check and check for Cleo. 

She huffed a quiet laugh to herself. It looked like Cap would get a dye job since both assassins had brown hair. Beard too, she grinned. He’d look great with a beard, and it would make it easier to disguise that beautiful jawline of his.

_ Shit, focus. _

She read more. The couple met on holiday in Mexico City, dated three months and had been married for just under four years. Neither had surviving family. There were no children and so no next of kin. 

“Wheels up in ten,” the pilot informed Cleo as she exited the elevator and turned toward the equipment room. 

She nodded, squaring her shoulders and pushing the tiny bit of self-doubt from her mind. It had just been a while, okay. She’d get the hang of it all again. Cleo promised she wouldn’t let Hill down, and she prided herself on always keeping her word. 

 

Once inside, she pulled down a duffel and gathered an ugly but functional tactical pen as well as a prettier pen knife, because she could be a classy bitch too, goddammit. Keeping with her proclivity for pointy things, she pulled out a Gerber StrongArm and a smaller SealPup Elite knife. 

Add in a couple of Sting Rings, a handful of titanium throwing spikes in varying finishes, a cute little Sig P238 and two Glock 19 Gen4s with varied capacity cartridges, and she was almost done. On the way out she stuck a few different harnesses in her bag- one thigh holster, one for her back and a new bra holster. Bra holsters were great, especially when you had enough going on up top to effectively hide stuff under. 

Cleo always favored bra holsters but had gotten used to walking around without so many weapons, so the weight of the bag in her hand helped in grounding her mind. She found catharsis in gathering her weaponry.

“What about wardrobe?” she asked the equipment tech. 

The young agent shrugged indifferently. 

_ Right...  _

Most field agents who worked undercover had time to build up an inventory. Cleo had been at a desk job for six years so that wasn’t something she had at the ready. She pulled out her phone and texted Hill.

**Cleo:** _I need to pick up clothes from home._

 **Hill:** _Negative. No time. Measurements already sent to Rogers._

Cleo stopped short when she read Hill’s response. Captain Rogers had her measurements? Okay... hopefully his team had enough time to gather what she needed to get through a day or two until she could take care of it. 

She shook her head and huffed out a soft snort, sending a silent prayer of thanks that at least she didn’t have to ask Captain _ freaking  _ America to pick up tampons or anything of the sort. Always looking at the positive.

She slid her phone into her pocket just in time for it to buzz again. It was Rogers this time.

**Rogers:** _Let me know when you land. I’ll pick you up._

And holy shit, this was actually happening. She was back in the field after so long. She was unsure how to reply. Should she send a  _ ‘yes, sir’  _ or something less formal like  _ ‘okay’?  _ He was her commanding officer now, after all.

Overthinking everything again; it was one of Cleo’s worst habits. It usually lead right to her needing to watch her tone. She was making this harder than it needed to be, so she went with a benign yet friendly response.

**Cleo:** _Will do. See you soon._

A couple of hours into the flight a notification came through of an additional data dump, including preliminary autopsy findings. Cleo opened the husband’s file first and poured over the information. 

He had multiple old healed fractures, however it was nothing out of the ordinary for their line of work. The husband had been healthy as a horse.

The wife hadn’t been as lucky. Findings showed evidence of previous abdominal surgeries and a titanium rod supporting her right femur. There were injuries consistent with high caliber gunshot wounds along her right side. 

Cleo should maybe walk with a bit of a limp, but she’d check video surveillance to be sure. That's when she got to the labs. 

_ No. _

The wife was thirteen weeks pregnant. That must be why the couple so desperately wanted out. 

More files containing surveillance, audio and video poured in. She found the couple hardly ever called each other by their given names, just terms of endearment. Easier to keep stories straight that way, she figured. 

The video showed the two were openly affectionate toward each other and there was even an intimate photo of them in Paris, both wearing love-struck smiles with the husband’s hand protectively cradling the woman’s soft abdomen. Cleo’s stomach flipped then settled with a familiar cold and empty feeling at the realization. This was hitting a little too close to home. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure she’d be able to do it. 


	2. Quite the Greeting

The rapid descent into the Marseilles airspace woke Cleo from the fitful nap she’d fallen into. She rolled her neck and shook the jetlag out of her shoulders before pulling out her phone to check the time. Thankfully, QuinJets were faster than she remembered; this trip had only taken four hours. After landing, she texted Rogers and received an interesting response.

**Cleo:** _Just landed._

**Rogers:** _Be right there baby :) We have a white Audi._

Cleo’s brow furrowed and she snorted in amusement. Baby?  _ And _ a smiley emoji? What a dork.

She pulled her bag down from the overhead and thanked the pilot. For what, she wasn’t exactly sure. He hadn’t been friendly or helpful, but she was on the ground and alive, so there was that. 

Through the glass doors of the smaller private terminal she saw the car pull up and double park with the flashers on. Really, way to look like you weren’t hiding from anyone. Oh but she was right. Brown hair and a beard on Rogers  _ was _ a good look. A really, really good look. She put her game face on and exited to the pick-up lane with the smile of a woman who missed her husband. 

“Hey baby!” Rogers beamed and trotted over. He pulled the bag off Cleo’s shoulder and wrapped her up in a warm hug that she subconsciously melted into, because lord, the man was built for hugs. She heard him rumble a deep, quiet humming sound in his throat before he pulled back and cradled her face with a warm hand. His other palmed at her hip and squeezed the softness of her waist as he dove in with a series of slow, intimate kisses.

It took a moment, but Cleo promptly got with the fucking program and kissed back. But just because she had to, okay. Not that it was enjoyable or anything. 

Not at all. 

And it was a good thing he grabbed her hand and lead her to the car when they separated because Cleo’s brain had gone fully offline. Thankfully, she had a moment between him closing her door, dropping her bag in the trunk and getting in the driver’s side of the car. 

Once they pulled away and into traffic, Rogers’ posture changed immediately. He stiffened in the drivers seat and gripped the wheel tighter.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Cleo,” he said, full-on blushing and sounding like he hated himself something awful.

_ So he did know her name. _

He drug his thumb across his lower lip and sighed audibly. Yeah, thanks for the textbook sexy move, Rogers. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. The hand that had been holding her intimately moments ago brushed back through his now brunet hair before met her eyes apologetically and she felt an immediate need to break the tension in the space.

“It’s okay... just- it’s okay,” she laughed nervously. “We don’t want to blow our cover before we even get started.” Then, because she was feeling like she wanted to jump out of the car at top speed, she quirked a brow and made a joke to lighten the mood. “I have to say, that was _ some  _ greeting, Captain.”

Their eyes met and Rogers snorted out an unbecoming yet completely adorable laugh and mumbled, “Steve. Please?”

“Huh?” 

He looked back to her, and his eyes flicked from hers, down to her lips and back. “Call me Steve. I mean, I just had my hands all over you, and… You’re calling me  _ Captain. _ That’s just-” he stopped talking abruptly, knowing exactly how that sentence ended in his head. With a woman like Cleo? Bad thoughts. Lots of bad thoughts. 

_ Shut the fuck up, Rogers. You too, dick, nobody asked you. _

“Hey,” she reached out and squeezed his arm. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” He realized he stopped paying attention while trying to convince his body to calm the fuck down. Not his fault. She was breathtaking.

“I know what I signed up for. No offense taken,” she assured him and squeezed his forearm again for emphasis. “We’re supposed to be married, yeah?” 

He nodded, hesitant to see where she was going with it, but she continued all the same. 

“So... in the interest of both our asses making it out alive, you act like you’re in love with me and I’ll do the same.”

He tilted his head and his eyes shifted to hers after he changed lanes in the direction of their hotel. He nodded, his lips turned up in a relieved half-smile.

“Speaking of.” He cleared his throat and dug in his chest pocket before holding open his hand. “Her rings.”

 

Good. This was good, he reasoned. It brought clarity to what they were doing. They were working, and he could- no, he  _ would _ be professional. She was an agent and should be treated as such, not subjected to groping by a fucking hundred year old creep, for God’s sake. Whatever could have been in the past was in the past.

Cleo looked at the rings in Steve’s hand and tried not to think about the promises that were made on those very bands. She took them without a word, nodded, and slid them on the proper finger. An icy shiver traced its way up her spine when they fit perfectly.

“I’m pregnant, by the way,” she blurted, staring down at her adorned hand. Steve’s jaw dropped as his head snapped back to her. “I mean she is.  _ Was.  _ Thirteen weeks… it was a girl.”

“Oh.” His voice deepened respectfully considering the change in topic. Showing the stereotypical naivety for his generation, he eyed her soft abdomen and asked, “Uh, do we need to get you a pillow or somethin’? To make you look pregnant?”

That time it was Cleo’s turn to snort a laugh. But it was a very delicate and lady-like one, okay.

“No, not yet. I don’t think they really advertised the pregnancy.”

He nodded. After a few moments of awkward quiet, he spoke again.

“So, first time undercover?” 

Steve knew the answer already, obviously. Knew she'd been a uniformed field agent until being reassigned via an elective discharge to Administration. He just wanted to take the opportunity to get to know Cleo a bit more. And between her light feminine scent and still being able to taste her minty vanilla lip balm, well, the silence in the car was deafening.

Cleo nodded as she popped a mint in her mouth and offered one to Steve.

“Thanks.” He realized he was still staring at her lips when she spoke. 

“First time indeed. I’ve been in Admin since the mess in New York hit, so, apologies up front if I’m a little rusty.”

“None needed, I’m sure you’ll be fine. You had quite a few years in the field before that.”

“Oh! Are you calling your wife old, Rogers?” she chided in jest.

_ “Hah,  _ well you’re not exactly a rookie.”

“Sure, says the centenarian.”

Steve winced, grabbing his chest dramatically. “Touché.” 

Their exchange was an easy one, once the initial awkwardness at the airport was overcome. Cleo’s phone buzzed and another file came through from a SHIELD analyst. She opened it up and flicked a spot on the side of the screen to project the information so Steve could see it too.

_ Réservation 8pm Orchestre Philharmonique De Marseille.  _

_ Private box number three.  _

_ Rendezvous with contact that location.  _

_ Nothing further. _

Cleo looked at the time. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the show was just under two hours from then. Her eyes darted nervously to the trousers she’d been wearing since the office that morning.

“You okay?”

She shrugged. “I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion and we don’t have a lot of time.”

Steve grinned at her. Actually it was more of a cocky little smirk, complete with an arched brow. “Don’t worry, I gotcha.”

Her brow furrowed. “What does that even mean?” Cleo asked, trying not to sound annoyed. The habit tended to come out when she was nervous, though she’d been trying like hell to break it.

Steve’s voice softened a bit and he shaved the arrogant edge off. Apparently they weren’t quite there yet with his humor. 

“I gave the concierge your measurements already. Told ‘em I was surprising my wife for our anniversary and to get everything you’d need for at least two weeks of high luxury.”

_ Oh yeah.  _

That’s right, they were married and in love and all. Cleo blew out a grateful breath as they turned into the main drive of the  _ Intercontinental Marseille Hotel Dieu.  _

“Thanks, Steve.”

He winked before stopping the car. “No problem, Sweetcheeks.”

Cleo laughed at the absurdity of the nickname, and that’s all it took for her to shake her nerves free and exit the car with a genuine smile on her face. Just in time for the the valet to open her door. 

Thank god for Rogers. With his gentle touches and smartass humor, they might actually get through the mission in one piece.


	3. Roses are Red

Steve opened the door to their suite and Cleo was taken aback. He wasn’t kidding about his instructions to the concierge. There were multiple vases of long-stemmed red roses decorating the space, a chilled bottle of champagne in a bucket with a crystal bowl of fresh strawberries on the credenza, and rose petals were sprinkled along the hardwood floor leading to the bedroom.

“Wow, they don’t mess around in Marseilles,” Cleo breathed.

“Only the best for you, baby.” Steve set her bag on the floor and wrapped his arms around her from behind. She leaned back against his chest and snaked a hand up behind him into his hair.

Cleo’s skin tingled as Steve’s warm minty breath caressed her ear. He leaned in closer and kissed her neck while whispering, “Gotta sweep for bugs every time we get in, okay?”

She nodded just this side of imperceptibly and when he released her, she lazily pulled a rose to admire from the nearest vase. She watched as Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out something that looked like a Starkphone but clearly wasn't and began scanning the room. Steve disappeared into the bedroom and ensuite for a moment, then came back out to the living space looking more relaxed.

“There's a surprise on the bed for you. Why don't you take a bath and put it on for me?”

Cleo quirked a brow at him as if to ask if he found anything, and he held up a hand in a military style halting gesture. He opened the French doors to their balcony and stood for a beat. The phone-not-his-phone chirped and he shoved it back into his pocket.

“We’re clear.”

Cleo felt herself slump in relief and she bent to grab her bag. Unpacking her goodies would be fun later. No time now, though.

“I'm just going to shower real quick before we have to go,” she offered.

Steve looked at the watch on his wrist and plopped down of the sofa. “Take your time. We've got almost an hour before we have to leave.”

She shook her head and smirked fondly. _Someone_ had no idea how long it could take a woman to get ready for a fancy evening. She entered the bedroom to find a long gift box wrapped in a red satin bow lying at the foot of the bed.

_A surprise on the bed, he said. Put it on for him…_

Inside was a beautiful black sheath dress with red roses embroidered throughout. It was stunning. And sexy as hell. She opened the walk-in closet and found one side containing clothes for her. There was even an assortment of undergarments, accessories and shoes on the shelves, everything in her size.

She pulled out the silk robe and a pair of black underwear- great, all thongs and cheekies- and disappeared into the bathroom to undress.

This was insane. Who the hell actually lived like this? Apparently she did, at least for the next two weeks.

When Cleo got into the hot shower, she let out a soft moan of approval for the water pressure. It helped relieve the tension in her shoulders from the flight and the stress of jumping head first back into field duty after so long. Knowing there wasn’t a lot of extra time, she finished quickly, but promised herself she'd visit the giant glass shower again when she could properly appreciate it.

 

Steve leaned back into the plush sofa. After he heard the bathroom door shut and the water start, he groaned out a sigh, dragging his hand down his face and scratching at his beard. It was strange to have facial hair. It wasn’t something he ever could grow before the serum when he was still sickly. Then once he was property of the US Army, it was against regulations.

He was abruptly brought out of pontificating the pros and cons of facial hair when his enhanced hearing picked up on a pleasurable moan coming from the shower. Damn his enhanced senses straight to hell, because now he’d _definitely_ be playing that sound over and over again in his head.

He knew Cleo was the right choice for the mission. Not just because she fit the wife’s description to a metaphorical T, but because he’d read her dossier. She was tough as hell and damned good at her job. And even though he didn’t know the specifics on why she chose a discharge to Administration after the Battle of New York, he was grateful she had. The intel she provided him on missions saved his ass many times. Maria trusted her most, as did Steve by proxy, because Maria didn’t just hand out trust or confidence. It had to be earned.

And okay, there were selfish reasons to his choice, too. Steve had been attracted to Cleo for years. Hell, he even almost got up the nerve to take her to dinner once. But then SHIELD fell and the world went to shit. Life got complicated, which was just golden, considering Steve was literally the human embodiment of complicated.

So he would take the opportunity that the universe so kindly bestowed upon him and enjoy the feel of her soft body next to his own when he had the chance. But also he’d try to come clean with her and not be a total fucking creep. And who knows- maybe she could be into him too?

The shower shut off and soft humming sounds came from the other room. He immediately recognized the tune as Ella Fitzgerald’s _Summertime_.

_Seriously, just when she couldn’t get more perfect._

A knock sounded at the door and he popped up off the sofa at the ready. He eyed his shield next to the door and then checked the peep-hole. It was his suit, being delivered from the cleaners.

_Stand down, Rogers._

Steve opened the door and greeted the small older woman, thanking her and passing over a generous tip. He unzipped the bag and laid out the pieces over the back of the sofa, checking to see that everything was in order.

“You gonna get dressed sometime today?” a charming but teasing voice asked from behind him.

He turned and his jaw dropped as Cleo stood looking like a goddess straight out of a wet dream in the fitted dress and strappy heels. The hair piled high on top of her head just added an extra layer of elegance to the simple makeup she wore and effortless class she exuded.

Steve realized he’d been standing there with his mouth open. He snapped his jaw shut and his hand instinctively rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, uh... wow. You look great.”

Cleo’s cheeks flushed and she dropped her hazel eyes, biting the side of her bottom lip. “Thanks.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” he mumbled out before disappearing into the bedroom.

While Steve dressed, Cleo slid the smaller Sig into the thigh holster she wore under the dress. The cut and fit didn’t leave much room for anything significant, but there was no way she was going out on assignment without any weaponry.

She’d just tucked the handle of her SealPup Elite knife into her cleavage when Steve came back out. She gave him an appraising look, filing away the thought that he’s be as good a weapon as any with as drop-dead gorgeous as he was in the bespoke suit. She didn’t miss the way his bright blue eyes followed her hands as she adjusted the handle of the knife between her breasts one last time before sliding back on the wedding rings and a large black onyx cocktail ring on her other hand.

“Natasha and Sam will be in the audience,” Steve told Cleo as he reached into his pocket and pulled out two ear pieces.

Cleo nodded, inserting the device into her ear as he did the same. When it was secure, she nodded again at Steve and he cleared his throat, putting his game face on. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she smiled nervously, checking that the black titanium throwing spikes were secure in her bun.

 

 

 

 

Here's Cleo's dress for those of you who want a visual. Isn't it stunning?


	4. Making Contact

Cleo and Steve crossed the square on their way to the Opera. They strolled hand in hand and took in the beautiful view of the old port while scanning the area for anything that stood out. 

A variety of languages carried along on the balmy evening air as street vendors called out to would-be patrons. Cleo leaned into Steve’s side as they stood in line to enter the building, and his arm snaked around her soft waist, pulling her closer against his body. 

The lobby was decorated to match the grandeur of the city, and the beauty of it all nearly took Cleo’s breath away. The artist in Steve was drawn immediately to the paintings and murals adorning the ceilings. Each of them had to put extra effort into staying vigilant, aware of every tiny detail in their surroundings. 

Their boxed seats were on the second balcony, and when the hostess lead them there, she unfastened the velvet rope cordoning off the space. There they found a bottle of wine chilling on a small table and more red roses, with an envelope tucked neatly inside.

Cleo immediately blushed, even though she knew it wasn’t for her personally, but that she’d have to sell it as if it was. This was too much. Nobody went all out like this, did they? 

She took the roses off her seat and inhaled their sweet fragrance before turning to Steve and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, just like a wife would do at such a display.

_ “Merci, mon trésor,” _ she murmured against his lips, the fingers of her free hand gently carding through the brown hair on the back of his head.  _ “ _ _ Je vous aime.” _

“I love you too, baby,” Steve breathed before kissing Cleo again. His kiss was deep and there was a hint of a moan that snuck out of Cleo when his hands splayed across her back and pulled her against his chest. Their lips parted but their foreheads stayed pressed together and she sighed against his mouth.

“This guy sure sets the bar high, doesn’t he Sammy?” Natasha’s voice came through the coms and Cleo stiffened. 

Cleo didn’t know Natasha that well, but if she had to guess, she’d put money on there being a sly smirk across her lips. The little huff of a laugh Steve let out confirmed that suspicion when he made eye contact with the two Avengers who sat in the box directly across the stage from them.

“Makin’ the rest of us look bad, here, Steve,” Wilson chided playfully as he draped his arm across Romanov’s shoulders and pulled her in to drop a kiss on her temple.  

At first Cleo didn’t recognize Romanov. The bright red lips and long, platinum blonde hair she wore completely changed the appearance of the natural redhead. The smirk though, that was an unmistakable Romanov trademark. Wilson was easier to spot, though he did look different with the rectangular eyeglasses and beard. 

Cleo felt her cheeks flush with the realization that the others had seen her and Steve kissing intimately. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew. Knew they’d be working with the others, but she hadn’t really thought the entire equation through until that moment. She felt like there were millions of eyes on her and it made her skin crawl, and not in a pleasant way, either. 

Steve noticed the change in her demeanor and reached a warm hand over to cover hers where they fisted together in her lap. He raised an eyebrow to Cleo as if to ask if she was all right, and she breathed deep, blowing out the nerves as she did so. Her hands relaxed and he easily pulled one into his own just as the lights dimmed. 

The Opera was brilliant, as was the symphonic orchestra. When intermission came and the lights rose, Cleo excused herself to the ladies room. 

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Steve asked, a look of genuine concern in his eyes. 

“I, uh,” she hesitated. “I’ll be okay.”

Cleo didn’t know how to take his concern. She was almost offended, since she was a professional and a grown ass woman with a variety of weapons on her person. When she thought about it, his look of sincerity felt like it was more than just an offer of professional courtesy. She was out of the field for a few years, sure, but she could take care of herself. Steve had only made it halfway to his feet but returned to his seat when he saw the micro expressions of her face saying he may have overstepped. 

He only wanted to protect Cleo. He’d been the one to pull her from Admin and if anything happened to her… Let’s just say he’d be perfectly fine becoming someone’s worst nightmare.

The sound of lips meeting in a light kiss came over the coms and Cleo heard Romanov’s voice. “Hmm that’s a great idea, I’ll do the same. Would you like anything, Sammy?”

“Naw, I’m good, sugar. Think I’ll go say hi to an old friend.” Sam dropped a kiss on Natasha’s cheek before nodding across the venue to Steve and Cleo’s box.

 

Cleo leant across the counter to re-apply her lip balm in the mirror. She jumped when she saw the silhouette of a small blonde behind her sidling up to the sink. 

“Hey there, hot stuff,” Romanov winked. 

_ So much for the private restroom. _

Cleo’s eyes darted to the door she’d just locked after entering, then back to the spy. “Agent Romanov,” she nodded.

“Oh come on now, I think this puts us on a first name basis, Cleo,” she smirked. 

“Okay…”

Natasha relaxed the sly charm and continued to feel out Cleo’s comfort level. “Are you good on this one?”

Cleo met the blonde’s eyes and did her best to read the hidden meaning. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Romanov knew more than she was letting on. 

“What do you mean?”

There was a brief moment of silence and Natasha reached behind Cleo to straighten the top of her dress along her back. “Thanks.”

“I read your findings on the prelim autopsy,” the blonde answered simply. “Can’t be an easy one for you, considering, right? I saw the hesitation you had with Steve before the show began. I'm assuming that note didn't help.”

“Note?”

“With the roses.”

Cleo’s face dropped in realization. They hadn’t even read it yet. She was too wrapped up in the way Steve pulled her against his body and kissed her, and then the show was starting, and he held her hand the whole time.  _ Jesus,  _ did she ever need to get her head into the game.

Natasha shook her head, a fond yet exasperated smile playing on her lips. “Steve didn’t read it either, did he?”

Cleo shook her head no. Obviously Natasha read it, since she knew what it contained. Probably did so before they even arrived. Time was passing and her anxiety was building. They shouldn’t be gone too much longer. 

“Just tell me, please?” Cleo half-snapped with a frustrated sigh. She tried to keep it professional but she knew she’d be sounding bitchy in about 0.2 seconds flat. The spy was getting under her skin

Natasha studied Cleo carefully. Most people didn’t snap at her so quickly after meeting. Or ever, really. She was the goddamned Black Widow, after all. A woman so formidable she didn’t need weapons. She  _ was _ the weapon.

Natasha liked this one, though. A lot. Her Pavlovian response to meeting a beautiful, strong, ballsy woman was to try and set them up with Steve- but that part was already taken care of.

“It was a congratulatory note, of sorts, from your contact. On the ‘new development’. Threatened the development would be aborted should things not go as instructed. You’ve got coordinates for the day after tomorrow and an account number with a safe deposit box key.”

“Anything else?”

“It was signed  GTR.” 

Cleo frowned. GTR? There was nothing in any of the intel that would suggest those initials. 

“GTR doesn’t quite make sense,” Cleo answered and Natasha’s brow rose in surprise. She took the threat to the pregnancy better than expected.

“What? I  _ can _ be professional you know. It’s called internalizing your pain and we all do it. Some just better than others,” Cleo smirked and Natasha huffed out a laugh. She looped her arm through Cleo’s after they exited back to their seats.

“You’re one tough bitch, Cleo,” she whispered and Cleo laughed, finally feeling a bit more on even ground. She just had to keep things in perspective. She reminded herself this wasn't her pregnancy, so she shouldn't feel threatened. What could this GTR take from her that the Chitauri hadn't already?

She stopped as Natasha fiddled with her ear and turned back on her earpiece, then blushed, “I forgot to mute mine.”

Natasha threw her head back and laughed, a loud but good-natured sound. She quirked a blonde brow at Cleo and teased, “Good thing that was just a touch up then. Could have been embarrassing.”

 

Translation:  _ French _ to English

_ Merci, mon trésor =  _ Thank you, my treasure

_ Je vous aime =  _ I love you


	5. What Happens in Marseilles...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> This is where things get a little spicy.  
> Also, there are depictions of Cleo's traumatic experience during the Battle of New York. It wasn't pretty.

After the encore, they filed out into the square with the other patrons. There was a live band playing and couples stopped to dance, enjoying the romance in the air. Steve and Sam made eye contact and nodded, each turning away from each other.

“Hmm, beautiful evening. Shame to waste it, baby,” Steve drawled, pressing a kiss to Cleo’s palm. He pulled her into his arms and they started dancing.

“So romantic, this husband of mine,” Cleo teased up at Steve, snaking one arm around his neck and taking the gratuitous opportunity to lightly scratch her fingers of her other hand through his beard. She couldn't help but notice how his eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into her touch when she did it.

Sam’s voice came over coms and interrupted their little bubble. “We're gonna take a spin around you guys and get some eyes on the crowd before we finish for the night.”

Steve cleared his throat and his head snapped up when Sam spoke. Cleo grinned up at him, enjoying the effect she had on him and becoming emboldened by it. She replied to the others once she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

“Copy that,” she breathed out against his skin.

Cleo felt Steve’s muscles flex against her body and his grip on her hip tightened when she spoke. And maybe she _was_ playing with fire, because it would certainly hurt like hell when it was all over, but she didn't much care for self preservation at the moment. Steve was warm and strong, and it had been too long since she'd allowed herself to be held by a man.

_What happens in Marseilles…_

They stayed that way, holding each other as they danced until they heard Natasha over the coms. “You're clear. Have a good night.”

“Thanks, Nat,” Steve answered, stopping their dance. “Sign off.”

He reached up and took his ear piece out and slid it into his pocket. Cleo discreetly did the same and dropped hers into Steve's outstretched hand.

“We heading back now?” Cleo asked.

Steve tilted his head and studied her closely. He seemed to come to a decision about something and nodded, taking her hand as they ambled back toward their hotel. Once he was sure they weren’t being followed, Steve’s shoulders relaxed into a more natural posture.

“Tell me about yourself, Cleo,” he began while dragging his thumb softly against her knuckles.

Cleo’s eyes shot to Steve and then darted around their surroundings. She hadn’t expected to have such a conversation out in the open.

“It’s okay, we’re not being followed.”

Cleo breathed out slowly, taking a second to downshift and deciding where to begin.

_Generic, start there, then see what he's really asking._

“I’ve been in Admin for almost six years now, but I was in the field for three years before that.”

“Until New York?” Steve asked and she nodded, swallowing hard.

She hoped he wouldn’t ask too many details. It wasn’t something she liked to talk about. Those memories did best when they were buried down deep, and she much preferred they stay that way.

“What about you, though?” he pressed. Then, grasping for straws he decided to start simple. “How about... What’s your favorite color?”

“Red. What’s yours?” Cleo shot Steve an amused look, her eyes dancing. “And don’t you dare say white or blue!”

Steve tossed his head back laughing, “Don’t kill me!” The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled up and his hand tightened around Cleo’s. “I have two favorite colors. Red and blue- I can’t help it!”

Cleo laughed along with him and nudged him in the side with her free hand. It was easy, almost. They were Steve and Cleo- not the married couple and yet he didn’t let go of her hand. She found she quite enjoyed it.

“Okay, so what’s your third favorite then?”

“Third?” He hummed, “Let’s see. I’d have to say graphite- like the color of my pencils.” He stopped walking just outside the _Intercontinental’s_ entrance and turned to face her, still holding her close. A sincere expression settled across his features and he spoke quietly. “Your turn. Ask me anything.”

As Cleo looked up into Steve’s bright blue eyes, they danced in the warm light radiating from the lobby. He held her gaze, and something shifted inside of her because of the intensity of it all. They were still so close, and call her crazy but she’d never seen or heard of Captain America being a playboy with his partners. She had to know if this was really happening or if she completely misread it.

“Why me? Was it just because I look like she did? Because with our tech, I mean, anyone could have…” she asked, looking down and her brow furrowed.

She was unable to hide the way her voice wavered. Her heart was about to beat straight out of her chest and her breath caught in her throat.

_And there it was._

Her boldness and vulnerability coming out simultaneously made Steve want her even more. She was showing him unapologetically just how strong and intelligent a woman she was. It was in the way she held herself, the way she threw herself head first into things without taking her heart into account until it was too late.

There were few things Steve couldn’t help but want so completely in this world, but his biggest weakness was a powerful, independent, beautiful woman. He knew this was hard for her, had heard her conversation earlier with Natasha, but she never once wavered when assigned. Never hesitated. He knew there was pain there, and he suspected he was partially to blame. But if he could break through to her and gain her trust, well, just maybe there was a way she could forgive him and he could help ease that pain.

“Cleo,” he murmured, his free hand rising to gently cradle her jaw.

His thumb slid along her cheek and she leaned into the touch instinctively as her eyes fluttered before meeting his own with such need. Her chest rose on the sharp inhale she took as he stepped even closer. He let go of her hand and wrapped his strong arm behind her back, closing the distance between them.

“It's selfish, really. And I think you know why, don't you?” he murmured, his eyes following the outline of her lips.

She held him by the lapels of his suit and nodded, quietly murmuring his name and pulling him down to her the rest of the way.

He softly, tenderly brushed their lips together. There was something different in the way he kissed her this time. He let go of the side of her face so he could hold her properly with both strong arms wrapped around her soft body and she melted against him. He teased her lips and they parted more, welcoming the feeling of his tongue curling against her own with a soft, quiet gasp.

Steve couldn’t help the warmth that ran up his spine from tasting her and holding her so intimately, because it was _her._ And because it was _him_ she was responding to- not a performance for the job.

He moaned into the kiss and he deepened it further as his chest filled with pride when he heard her whimper with need. He kissed over to her neck and down, exploring until he found that one spot. The one that made her drop her head back and sigh, her fingers twining into his hair and holding him there.

And god, she was exquisite like that. So relaxed and open, focusing only on what she was feeling. He wanted to take his time, trace his lips over her entire body until he found all those hidden places that would make her lose control. He needed her like he needed air, wanted to take her apart piece by piece until all that was left was pleasure and resplendent release.

“Steve, please,” she begged quietly, panting against his ear and gripping his hair tighter. _“Please…”_

His bit and marked into the soft skin of her neck. The resulting whimper that left her lips from the way his beard scratched against her skin had him achingly hard for her.

“So beautiful,” he whispered against her lips before diving back into her mouth, kissing her deeply.

Steve held Cleo possessively and let his hands roam, caressing the soft skin of her back above the dress with one, and drifting lower down her hip and around to the curve of her backside with the other. He pulled her firmly against his hips, burying his length against her abdomen. And god, he could easily lose himself in the yielding softness of her body.

She was intoxicating, consuming all of his senses. He breathed her in, her faint, sweet perfume making his head swim. He tasted the minty vanilla of her lips, felt the velvety smoothness of her skin. He wanted more, not just the small bits he could get his hands and mouth on where they were, but every glorious piece of her.

She showed him just how much she wanted that too, when she nipped against his lips playfully and ordered, “Take me upstairs. Now.”

“Yes ma'am,” he smirked, a crooked grin on his lips, before scooping her up bridal style into his arms.

She shrieked out a laugh and held on tightly. It wasn't that she was afraid he'd drop her- he was a super soldier, after all. She just wasn't a petite woman and she wasn't used to being manhandled so easily.

_Why was that so fucking hot?_

It took her by complete surprise, but she loved every bit of it. She shivered at the thought of  what else he could do with that strength.

Once they were in the lift to go to their suite, his mouth was on her again. He kissed down her neck to the swells of her breasts and she felt the sweet burn of his beard scratching her skin again. Her head dropped back and she arched her in his arms, exposing more of her décolletage and imagining what that beard would feel like _everywhere_. He sucked a hot open mouth kiss against the upper part of her cleavage and laughed low and deep when he met the top of her knife hidden there.

“Dangerous,” he chuckled, raising a cocky brow. He smirked up at her and nipped her skin making her yelp and moan.

She immediately gripped his jaw and brought his mouth back to hers, scratching into his beard with her blunt nails. He groaned against her lips and kissed her hard and quick before the elevator doors opened to their floor. Thankfully there was no one else waiting on the lift.

Once in front of their door, rather than set Cleo down, Steve adjusted her in his arms. The next thing she knew, she was being tossed over his shoulder and hanging down his back with an impressive upside down view.

“Oh my god!” she laughed out loud and grabbed for her chest to keep from falling out of the strapless dress.

He responded with a playful smack on her ass as he unlocked their door, which made her whimper. The sound went straight to his dick and he did it again, that time grabbing a handful of yielding flesh. Once inside the bedroom, he knelt to set her back against the bed and she reached for him reflexively.

He had to sweep the room, but he couldn't say no to her even if he wanted to. So he complied, pressing his weight down onto her and driving her into the mattress. One leg slid between hers and he rolled his hips, getting a small taste of the friction he wanted so desperately. A needy moan left her lips at the feeling of him above her, warm and strong and hard, bracketing her in with his powerful body.

He leaned in and murmured her name as quietly as possible in her ear between heated kisses against her neck, but then growled out, “Cle- _oh_ _fuck!”_ as she rolled her hips up against him and tugged on his hair harder. He didn't even know getting his hair pulled was a thing for him. “You're so beautiful like this… _Jesus,_ I-,” he stuttered out brokenly between kisses. “I gotta… Gotta sweep the room. I'll be right back.”

Pulling away from Cleo in that moment was hands down one of the hardest things Steve had done in his life- pun _totally_ intended. His body wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside her and fuck her into the mattress until neither of them could see straight. His brain, on the other hand, that’s where it got complicated.

There was a small voice in the back of his head warning him that he should use caution with her, that she was going through something and she may be using this thing between them as a distraction. He had a suspicion that giving into his desires so quickly would end up putting a wedge between them and it was enough to make him think twice.

And there was still the matter of the apology he'd owed her for almost four years now. He draped his suit jacket over the armchair and the device in his hand chirped, bringing him back to the present and signaling the suite was clear.

 

Cleo was barefooted now. He walked back into the bedroom just in time to see her pull the spikes out of her hair and it cascaded around her back and shoulders. His eyes shot to her hands as they shook. She dropped the rings she wore into the dish on the bedside table and turned to him with a nervous smile that didn’t meet her eyes.

“All good?” she asked, and Steve easily read the forced ease in her voice. She advanced toward him but walked as if on auto-pilot, all of her confidence gone. The time it took him to sweep the room was just enough for her to lose her nerve. Overthinking their dynamic kicked her anxiety into high gear.

_Come on, you can do this. Just stop thinking about it and feel something again._

When she reached up to kiss him, Steve instead pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her in for a gentle hug. He could feel her body trembling in his arms so he wrapped her in tighter, running a warm hand along her spine.

“Cleo, honey. What is it?”

She shuddered a breath out against his chest and tightened her hold around his torso when he called her honey. It wasn’t from the pet name as much as it was how he said it so intimately. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed before pressing her forehead against his shirt.

“I'm sorry. I really want this, but I just… I'm sorry, Steve.”

“Hey, none of that. Please don't apologize for changing your mind.” He let go and backed away a half step, just enough to meet her eyes when he tipped her chin up. “If anyone should be sorry here, it's me. I shouldn't have been so forward with you,” He looked down and continued, “but finally kissing you after so long- I...” He shook his head. “I need to tell you something and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Cleo cocked her head in confusion. “What do you mean, forgive you? What are you talking about?”

He let go of Cleo completely and stepped back further. His hand went to the back of his neck and he rubbed it nervously. He looked down at his feet again, then back up, hesitation in his eyes. “Uh, a few years ago- I dunno if you'll remember… But someone sent you a bunch of roses? With a card?”

Did Cleo remember? Vividly. She remembered as if it were yesterday. Gestures like that weren’t an everyday occurrence and it was only the most romantic restaurant in D.C. and she never set foot inside again after that night.

_Floriana on Capitol Hill_

_Friday the 26th at 1930_

_Meet me there?_

“I remember,” she answered dryly. “Wait. How do you-?”

It was unsigned and she found the mystery of it was intriguing, so she went. It was also the last time she attempted to date given how spectacularly it failed, so there was that. A small part of her was still convinced it was all part of a cruel joke.

_Red roses. Blue glass vase. Red. Blue. Steve?_

“It was you?” Cleo folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself tightly. Anger and hurt burned bright in her hazel eyes, trying to make sense of it all.

“I can explain!” Steve’s pleading made the tone of his voice higher and he was _not_ proud of the resulting sound. “SHIELD fell and I- I know that's not an excuse, but…”

“Barnes pulled you out of the Potomac that day. I get it,” she finished for him. “But after- I mean you never called. You could have called, or even emailed me. Something, Steve! _Anything.”_

She turned away, tears filling her eyes but she refused to let him see her cry. And fuck, what a day it had been. Exhaustion settled into her bones and she reached back to squeeze her shoulders, rolling her neck and plopping down on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

Steve knelt in front of her and rested his hands on her knees. “Cleo... I'm sorry, I should have told you. But after I woke up in the hospital, I just… the time had already passed and I still didn’t know who I could trust. It was a horrible thing to do. I know that now and I'm so, so sorry.”

She met his eyes and studied him after swiping at the tears still threatening to spill. Weren't they a pair? Here she was in a foreign country on an undercover mission after six years in Admin, about to jump into bed with Steve _mother_ _fucking_ Rogers, none other than the asshole that stood her up all those years ago. To think she wondered if he even knew she existed this whole time.

He did look sincere in his apology, though. Sure, it was a bit of a dick move not calling, but at that point he really _didn't_ know who he could trust not to kill him. Extenuating circumstances, and all... Who was she to hold it against him?

She sighed, reaching out and gently patting his cheek with her hand. “Don't beat yourself up Steve, it’s in the past. Let’s keep it there.” He still looked upset with himself and she rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, quit with the kicked puppy face!”

He finally relaxed and huffed out a small chuckle. “You think you could give me another shot?”

Cleo went to respond but all that came out was a giant yawn. She shrugged. “If you let me sleep in tomorrow, all is forgiven.”

“I'll do you one better and have breakfast waiting for you when you wake up.”

“Deal,” she conceded, reaching out to smooth his hair from where she'd mussed it.

Steve rose and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead before grabbing a pillow from the bed.

“Where are you going?”

He nodded over his shoulder to the living room. “I'll take the couch, you get some sleep.”

“Plenty of room for both of us. That couch didn't do anything to deserve being slept on by a super soldier.”

He shot her a half grin at the teasing but hesitated still. “You sure?”

The rational part of Cleo was torn, but the other side of her shouted for it to shut the hell up. She shot a little smirk at him and quirked a teasing brow as she patted the bed. So sue her. She still really wanted him, and she was allowed to be selfish once in a while.

Steve stood for a moment looking like he was fighting an internal battle. He finally moved back to the bed, tossing the pillow down and kicking off his shoes. There was an awkward silence as he went to the dresser to pull out his pajama pants.

She removed her gun and thigh holster, pretending not to watch as he changed. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed that the shirt tail of his dress shirt covered everything of interest. The mood shifted and it became painfully obvious that the night wasn’t going to be some sexy lust-filled fantasy come to life. Still, when his shirt finally did go, she felt her pulse speed up and her cheeks flush, because _wow_.

Cleo opened the closet to find some pajamas while Steve brushed his teeth and realized the instructions he gave the concierge were taken verbatim. There was an assortment of lingerie with everything from demure to racy, so she went with the most modest option, which was a burgundy silk two piece cami and shorts (if one could call them that) with the softest lace trim she'd ever felt. It really was like heaven against her skin, what little it did cover.

She slipped her robe on over her pajamas and waited for her turn with the bathroom. When she came back out, Steve was propped up against the headboard and had his nose buried in his phone, typing away at something. He looked up as she pulled her arms one at a time across her chest- as best as she could around her bust, that is- stretching her tense muscles and slid off her robe, climbing into bed.

“G’night Steve.”

“Night honey." Shit, that slipped out again. Oh well. "Sleep well.”

He flipped off the lamp and settled in himself, resisting the urge to reach out and hold her.

 

Some hours later, halfway between the dead of night and not quite dawn, Steve woke to Cleo thrashing in her sleep. He tried to make out what she was saying but it was for the most part unintelligible. Fragments of words and whimpered phrases here and the allowed him to piece together enough to know whatever she was dreaming wasn't pleasant.

He tentatively reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Cleo. Hey, it's okay, you're dreaming,” he whispered. When she didn't respond, he scooted closer and held her, trailing his hand down her arm. “Cleo…”

“Can't,” she murmured, “not- please… _No!”_

When she screamed out the last part, she bolted upright and searched the room wild eyed and out of breath. Her hands instinctively went to her low abdomen and grabbed for something she didn't find. Her face fell and her eyes became lucid as she shuddered out a breath, shaking silently and leaning forward cradling her soft stomach.

“You’re okay,” Steve murmured, sitting up next to her and rubbing her back softly.

Cleo met his eyes and her bottom lip trembled. She darted from the bed to the bathroom, sniffling and swiping roughly at her eyes. He listened as she splashed water against her face and tried taking deep, steady breaths.

The sounds of soft crying coming from her wrenched his heart. He wanted to help, to fix it- whatever _it_ was- but had no idea where to begin or even if she would let him get close.

He knocked softly on the door. “Cleo... What do you need honey, can I help?”

“No,” she called, her voice cracking. Her breath hitched and she did her best to hide the sounds. “I’m just- I'll be fine.”

He stood for a moment and waited with his palm pressed against the door, feeling completely useless before heading to the living room. There he sat on the sofa, awkwardly listening in case she needed anything but also trying to give her the privacy she wanted.

Cleo stared at her reflection in the mostly dark room, the only light coming from the glow of the street lamps filtering in through the window. She turned off the water and dried her hands before leaning against the marble counter, gripping the edge and trying to steady her breathing.

She had been doing so good, too. The nightmare hadn’t come in almost a year, but that night it was as vivid as when it actually happened. She knew when she read the pathology reports from the autopsy this might happen. It’s why she doubted herself, and also why she’d been so reckless with Steve earlier that evening. Anything to not think about it.

The dream was so real- as if she were right back in the middle of the destruction, trying to free herself from the rubble.

_She felt the impact and heat from the explosion that brought the rest of the building down around her and heard herself screaming, being caught between giant pieces of twisted metal and crumbled brick. During the chaos of the invasion she lay there for hours, surrounded by what used to be her apartment. The way she was pinned crushed her pregnant belly. She wasn’t sure how far into being trapped in the wreckage it was when it happened, but she knew the exact moment she lost everything that mattered. There was another explosion and the rubble shifted making the pain multiply exponentially, like she was caught in a vise, squeezing and squeezing._

_It became harder to breathe, not just from the pressure of being stuck, but also from the rhythmic pain in her uterus. Once the hot gush of blood began running down her legs, she knew it was over, for her and the baby._

_She bled and bled, and when she began to fade, it was like floating on a stream of blessed unconsciousness. A peace came over her, one of warmth and comfort for herself and her unborn baby._

She never expected to wake in the hospital the next day, recovering from an emergency hysterectomy and multiple transfusions. Her hand instinctively went to her abdomen again, clutching the fabric there. The familiar cold emptiness wracked another sob from her throat and she slumped down against the wall onto the cool tile, pulling her legs up and burying her face in her knees.

She must have fallen asleep there out of sheer exhaustion, because the next thing she knew, there were strong arms lifting her off the floor and she was cradled against a warm chest.

_Steve._

He carried her back to the bed and tucked her in deep under the covers before climbing in the other side. Once he was next to her, Cleo scooted closer for the extra warmth.

This time he didn’t fight the urge to hold her.

This time she let him.

He pulled her against his chest and carded his fingers through her hair, kissing the crown of her head every so often until she was finally asleep. After her breathing evened out, Steve went to release his hold on Cleo, only to find she had attached herself to him like a koala to its mother’s back. Her leg was even threaded between his. And sure, he could have moved her if he really wanted to. But who was he kidding?


	6. Zero Sense of Propriety

The next morning brought its own problem, and the problem’s name was morning wood. Steve laid pressed against Cleo’s back, his thick arm wrapped around her soft body. Which was fine, it was all fine. Right up until the moment when in her sleep, she burrowed back into his warmth.

It's never a good thing when your dick wakes up before your brain and decides to make itself known against the ass of a beautiful woman. At least not when said beautiful woman is your partner/undercover wife on a mission and you're trying to not be a total fucking creep. But Steve's dick had zero sense of propriety.

He slowly, silently extricated himself from their position but stopped to watch in amusement as Cleo turned in her sleep to Bogart the warmth that his furnace of a body created. She stretched and moaned softly as she did so. The sound she made had his dick twitching in interest and it reminded him exactly why he'd gotten up so carefully.

_ Jerk off. Shower. Order breakfast. All in that order. _

He had been a little frivolous with the plan, jerking off twice in the shower. The first time he barely had to touch himself before painting the tiled wall of the glass enclosure. He wasn't proud but he was alone, so there was that. The second time was simply for good measure, serum-enhanced refractory period be damned. He stood with his head under the running shower water, one palm pressed firmly against the wall and did his level best to  _ silently  _ mouth Cleo's name as he came, fucking into his fist.


	7. Two Promises

Cleo woke to an empty bed and the sounds of the shower shutting off. She realized she was sprawled across the bed, cuddled into Steve’s pillow and she took a moment to enjoy breathing in his scent. She stretched the length of her body and turned to look at the clock but couldn’t see it over the mess of pillows and blankets. She felt exceptionally lazy and given the early morning sun filtering in through the curtains, it wasn’t that important so she flopped her head back down and rubbed her face.

The puffy tenderness around her eyes immediately brought the horrible night back into clarity. Shame and guilt settled in as she realized Steve had witnessed her nightmare. She vaguely remembered him carrying her back to bed after she’d fallen asleep on the tile floor in the bathroom. Yeah. This was going to be fun to explain.

“Hey you,” Steve called softly, leaning against the now open door frame. “You hungry?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded in assent and propped her head up with her chin on her fist. “Time is it?”

“Early yet, about 6:30? Why don’t you go back to sleep until breakfast is here.” he answered, a concerned, yet nowhere near patronizing look on his face. He walked to the bed and sat next to her and his hand lightly rested on her low back. When he bent down to drop a kiss on the side of her head, a sense of warmth and comfort came over her. “You feelin’ better?”

_And there it was- the conversation she was hoping to avoid._

She nodded, “I’m sorry about last night. That hasn’t happened in a long time. I was doing really good this past year but when I read the autopsy, well… I kinda expected it.” She sighed and ran her fingers along a wrinkle in the pillowcase, avoiding eye contact.

“Do you remember what I told you last night?”

And to be perfectly honest, she didn’t. So much had happened the day before and it was hard to know exactly what he was referring to. She reached up to fiddle with her cross and her eyes met his as she shot him an unsure look. “You never need to apologize to me, okay? I’m here for you, but if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push you. I dunno, maybe Natasha can help? You two seemed to have an understanding at the opera house.”

Natasha, Cleo remembered. Her coms were on when they spoke in the ladies room. She and Steve still hadn’t discussed the threat embedded in the note. Or the possibility that this GTR person knew something that only SHIELD was supposed to know. Too many things were getting convoluted. Cleo’s hesitancy to talk about her past wasn’t helping and that couldn’t be good for the mission.

She shrugged and tried to explain through pre-coffee morning-brain fog. “She was afraid it would affect my judgement on our mission. I thought I could… I don’t know, compartmentalize better I guess?” Cleo sighed in frustration, trying to mentally prepare herself. She had to decide where to begin and the answer was becoming crystal clear. But she needed a minute to get her thoughts together.

“I know we should talk about it, and I will but, do you mind if… Can I shower real quick first?”

Steve looked down at her, warmth and reassurance radiating from him. He reached out and drug his fingers along her hairline, tucking a long lock of bed head behind her ear.

“Take your time. I seem to remember promising you breakfast.” He smirked and rose a cocky brow. “‘Sides, I should probably put some clothes on.”

Cleo snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, unless you wanna give room service a free show,” she teased.

She let herself blatantly ogle his shirtless, towel-clad form for emphasis, and a light blush actually dusted his cheeks.

He looked down at said towel and and nodded, laughing lightly. “Noted. Guess I deserved that one.”

Cleo rose a suggestive brow, because she could shoot cocky looks too, goddammit. “Hmm. Maybe if I’m good, I’ll deserve some too.”

She got up and walked to the bathroom without saying another word, and if there was a little extra sway in her hips, so be it. Steve was a good guy, and sexy as hell. He knew the effect he had on her damned well, and he was having zero problem using it against her. Lucky for Cleo, she was becoming increasingly comfortable with his humor. Two could play that way.

\---

Steve flopped back on the bed, dragging his hands down his face, then back up and through his damp hair. Just when he thought he was getting the upper hand in their little cat and mouse game, Cleo went and pulled the rug out from under him.

His phone buzzed next to the bed and he looked over to it. Fucking Sam and Natasha, he loved his friends to actual death sometimes.

 **Sam:** _Yo, Nat’s got $50 that says you hit it last night_

 **Steve:** _Tell her I'm a gentleman_

 **Sam:** _Naw, man- she knows you better than that_

 **Sam:** _See but I know how long you've had it for that girl_

 **Steve:** _Then tell her I'm a professional_

 **Sam:** _So what you're saying is I won?_

 **Nat:** _That's not what he said Sammy_

 **Steve:** _I'm not saying anything_

 **Steve:** _You guys need a hobby_

 **Nat:** _What do you think you are to us Rogers?_

 **Steve:** _Fine a NEW hobby then_

 **Sam:** _And you've generously given us so much material_

 **Nat:** _I know you Steven_

 **Nat:** _If you didn't get some then you sure AF wanted to_

 **Steve:** _Ladies and gentlemen we have a winner!_

 **Sam:** _Man, you and your goddamn noncommittal answers don't make me therapize yo ass_

 **Steve:** _Unlike some people I have work to do_

 **Steve:** _Gotta order my wife breakfast_

 **Nat:** _Or you could skip straight to dessert_

 **Steve:** _Jesus Nat!_

 **Steve:** _Goodbye guys_

There was still an item pending on the _shower, jerk off, order breakfast_ list so Steve threw on his jeans and tshirt before he went into the living room and pulled the menu off the credenza. He'd worked up quite the appetite already that morning and everything sounded good. What the hell, it was SHIELD’s budget, so he ordered liberally. Cleo was hungry, after all, and he had a super soldier’s appetite.

She had just come out dressed in a bright blue long, flowy dress when he heard a knock at the door. Steve moved quickly and the need to protect Cleo rose in his chest. All was as is should have been and soon after, the scents of warm croissants, bacon and fresh coffee filled their suite.

Cleo opened the doors to the terrace and carried their big tray out while Steve took care of the delivery lady’s gratuity. She pushed together the two upholstered chaise loungers and he followed with the coffees and juice. The early morning breeze coupled with the heated summer air carried the scent of jasmine along from the railing of their balcony.

Steve much liked the way she set everything up, using the long cushioned parts as a makeshift picnic table and curling her legs up under her long dress when she settled in. He sat obediently and helped himself to the fruit while she tore off a piece of fresh croissant. Just when he thought she'd changed her mind about whatever it was she was going to say, she spoke.

“When the Chitauri came, I was still working in the field. They hadn't reassigned me yet, but that day I was pretty sick, so I called in.” She took a bite of her croissant and chewed purposefully. “Sometimes I wonder how different things would be if I would have sucked it up and gone in anyway,” she said as much to herself as to him and shrugged.

Steve listened patiently, knowing she was choosing what to say next.

“One of the smaller crafts crashed into my building, came through my bedroom wall. I opened fire when I realized it was still alive. After three shots center mast and it stopped moving.

“Not a minute later, Stark flies by and I hear his repulsor beams firing. Next thing I know, there's an explosion and shaking and the building’s coming down around me. It all happened so fast and I was,” she cleared her throat to try to steady her voice, “I was pinned. Trapped between metal and brick for God knows how long. There was a gash on my temple,” she explained and moved her hair to show him the scar before continuing. “I remember fading in and out. After the second explosion, everything shifted and…”

Cleos voice wavered more and she bit down on her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth. Steve pulled her over against his chest. He wanted to hold and comfort her, to tell her he understood how traumatic the attack was. That would have been a huge lie though, given what she said next.

Her arm curled protectively around her midsection and she looked down. “I was four and a half months pregnant when it happened. The way I was pinned- it was crushing the baby and after that second blast I started hemorrhaging. I thought I was going to die there, and you know what?” she asked rhetorically, looking up and meeting his eyes, her own shining with unshed tears. “After I knew the baby wasn’t going to make it? I was okay with it- with me dying there too.” she reached up and fiddled with her necklace again and Steve realized it was a nervous habit.

“No,” Steve murmured, “I'm so sorry honey.”

She leaned her head against his chest and tucked her legs in tighter. “I woke up two days later in the hospital after an emergency hysterectomy and a ton of transfusions to help with the severe blood loss.”

She was quiet for a moment and Steve took the opening to ask.

“What about… the father? Were you-”

Cleo shook her head and he stopped short. “He said it was too hard to be with me after that because it reminded him of what we lost. I mean, like I wasn't reminded every minute of everyday I survived, right?”

There was a hint of bitterness to her tone and Steve couldn't much blame her. Steve's jaw clenched in anger. If he could just have two minutes alone with the asshole, oh _if only._ The guy must have been a real piece of shit to do something like that.

“He didn't deserve you,” Steve bit out in defense for Cleo, and she huffed a laugh at the protective tone and kissed his cheek. It made her lips tickle when they pressed up against his beard, and the sensation brought some much needed levity when she crinkled her nose and rubbed her lips. Steve thought she was fucking adorable and told her as much.

“Word travels fast and I guess I was quite the story, losing the baby and then being dumped in the hospital and all. Worse than a bad country song. My C.O. came to see me before I was discharged and offered for me to stay with him and his family while I recovered, but I couldn't do it,” she shook her head and popped a fresh green grape in her mouth. After, she gave one to Steve too and he took it from her fingers to his mouth, a strangely intimate gesture. “Figured I'd be better on my own, you know? The sooner I got used to it, the better I would be. The dreams happened all the time back then, but over time they've almost stopped.”

“Until I pull you back into the fray on some half-cocked assignment where you're married and pregnant. God, Cleo, I'm so sorry.”

Cleo ate another grape and grew quiet again, shaking her head. After a frustrated sigh, finally she spoke.

“It's not that I couldn't _hack it_ at field duty, Steve. I worked my ass off and made it back- I was cleared. It was the looks of pity and the kid-gloves everyone treated me with after that did me in. I'm not built for that.” She met his eyes and all but demanded, “You have to promise you won't do that to me.”

He looked down at her, got a real good look at those hazel eyes, the way her brow was furrowed and her jaw set just so. He knew she deserved that from him at the very least. So, as much as he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let anything bad near her again, he knew he had to give her this.

He owed it to her. Not because he felt responsible for bringing her PTSD back- which he _totally_ did and anyone who said otherwise could fuck right off- but because she was exactly what he'd always known she was. A powerful, strong and capable woman who deserved nothing less.

He nodded once decisively, “I promise.”

“When Natasha told me about the note, the threat to the baby? She figured between having to sell being ‘pregnant’ and then this GTR guy using it as leverage, I might not be able to handle it. So you see, if I talk to her about any of this…” she trailed off. “She can’t know because it’ll only convince her that I can't handle it, when _I can.”_

“You don't have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay? But would you promise me something then?” he asked, hoping she'd agree.

She pulled away and squinted the tiniest bit, regarding him carefully and with utmost seriousness. “Depends.”

He snorted a laugh. She was a pistol, this one.

“Promise you'll let me be there for you if it happens again. Just don't shut me out,” he half-begged, voice gone soft at the end. He cupped her cheek and gently held her there, waiting for her to answer.

She nodded slightly, her eyes tracing down to his lips, then back up. She leaned forward, closing the distance between them with a chaste kiss. “I promise.”

 

\---

 

Here’s Cleo’s blue dress…  



	8. Body Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve discovers there's more to Cleo than he thought. Pretty much every bit of it is a giant turn-on. Cleo realizes she's tired of being the one in charge of everything in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Explicit sexual content

“So the bank doesn't open until 10am,” Cleo said distractedly, her eyes still on the phone screen. “That gives us about two more hours.”

“Anything else from Hill?” Steve asked.

She tapped her phone screen a few more times and shook her head. _“Non. Rien de nouveau.”_

Steve shot an affectionate little grin in her direction.

“What’d I do?” Cleo murmured, blush rising to her cheeks. The way he looked at her sometimes, it was flattering and a little unnerving at the same time.

“Huh?” he parroted back, clearing his throat and schooling his expression. “Uh, it's nothing, really. I just like the way you speak French is all. I could never get the accent right. Dernier- he was one of the Howlies with me and Buck- he used to call me _Le Massacreur_ because of how bad it was.”

Cleo snorted a laugh as she sat down next to him on the small sofa and folded her legs under her dress. His accent really _was_ awful.

“Aw, poor Steve!” she teased, nudging him in his side and making him jump reflexively. She’d figured out he was ticklish the previous night, right around his hip bone. “That's how I am with Italian. I get the inflection all wrong like I’m speaking Spanish or something. I grew up in L.A. so I’m just full of Mexican slang,” she rolled her eyes with a self-deprecating grin.

“Oh my God!” Steve teased back, grabbing his chest dramatically. “You mean there's actually a language my perfect Cleo can't speak?”

 _“Hah, perfect,”_ she deadpanned. “You're delusional, Rogers. I'm just a nerd with too much time on her hands.”

Steve shook his head slowly and reached for Cleo’s feet, pulling her legs into his lap. They were cold and he covered them with his hands, rubbing her feet briskly to warm them up. He cocked one brow then began massaging them, which she loved but was _not_ expecting, okay.

She bit down on her lip to try and hide the nervous smile, but his hands were warm and strong and he applied the perfect amount of pressure. She quickly gave up trying to contain her pleasure.

“Mmm,” she sighed when he rubbed her arch just right. He shot her a cocky little grin and she gave it right back. “What’s that sneaky look for?”

He shrugged entirely too innocently and went for her arch again. She rested her head into the corner of the couch and relaxed with another moan. And _oh,_ Cleo could get used to that all too easily. He moved his hands under the fabric of her dress, working from her ankle up her calf, relaxing the muscles with his warm hands.

“You know,” Cleo murmured with her eyes closed, a blissed out smile curling her lips, “you definitely have a future as a masseuse if this whole Captain America thing doesn’t work out for you.”

Steve chuckled a low sound and set to work on her other side. Leaning in closer he hummed, “You think so?”

“Mhmm,” she sighed, opening her eyes and watching him lazily. His hands slowly moved up to her knees, still hiding under the fabric of her dress. “I just don’t know if I wanna share you.”

He huffed out a deep laugh that almost ended on a low growl, leaning over to her more and holding her gaze. “Good, ‘cause I don’t want you sharin’ me, honey.”

Cleo’s heart was pounding in her throat and she just knew she was blushing. At the same time, the practical side of her brain fought to not read too much into his flirting. Maybe this was just his personality, what with the cocky humor and all.

“Good thing you’re mine for the next two weeks then, huh?” she asked, and died a little inside with as breathy as her voice came out.

She watched his eyes lower to trace the outline of her mouth and down her body to where her hands hid under her dress, then they trailed back up to meet her eyes. “Just the two weeks? I was kinda hoping you’d wanna keep me around longer ‘n that.”

She teasingly skimmed her fingers up the back of his arm, enjoying the feeling of his muscles moving as he worked her legs. “Mmm… I dunno. Might take some convincing, but-”

She was cut off by his mouth on hers, a possessive kiss claiming her as he moved one of his hands above her head to steady himself and the other rose to palm at her soft waist and down her hip. He moved her where he wanted and soon he was completely above her on the small sofa. Allowing herself to be submissive to him gave her a thrill of power and she eagerly kissed back. She moved where he nudged her, obeying his body’s commands until he was completely between her legs.

She trailed her fingertips up his sides, between the fabric of his shirt and his warm body. The heat that naturally radiated from him felt _so good,_ she longed to feel him skin to skin.

“Cleo,” he groaned between kisses, nipping her lips and curling his tongue against hers, then he went searching for that magical spot on her neck that made her whimper. “You're so beautiful.”

 _“Steve…”_ she gripped the thick muscle of his back with one hand, her blunt nails digging into his flesh. Her other hand came up behind him as her fingers threaded into his hair and she tugged when the tickle of his beard made her shiver and sigh.

_There it was._

He was addicted, greedily savoring the taste of her skin. He couldn't get enough of the way she instinctively gripped his hair when something felt good, the soft noises she made, or the way they fit so perfectly together, his hard body against the soft and oh-so-feminine flesh of hers.

She whimpered his name again when he drug his teeth against that one part of her neck, just below her ear and at the same time arched her back. The way she moved beneath him had him grinding back down into her, drawing more sweet noises from her lips.

“That's it, honey. Tell me what you want,” his voice rumbled low against her ear before he tugged on it with his teeth.

 _“Steve...”_ she breathed desperately. He pulled back and their eyes met. Cleo scratched her nails against his beard and she was pretty sure her expression was close to begging at that point but she didn’t care. “You. I want you.”

With a roll of his hips and a low groan he latched onto her neck where it met her clavicle. He sucked lightly into the skin there, grinning at the way her flesh pinked up when his beard rubbed against it. Seeing his mark on her body was something else, something he wanted - no - needed more of.

“Yeah? You sure?” he cooed against her neck, lightly marking into the soft flesh. “God, Cleo. I want you to be mine so fuckin’ bad, babydoll. But only if you’re ready.”

His brow furrowed in pleasure as he ground his hips down against her again, explicitly showing her what he wanted and covered her mouth with his lips. A low growl escaped from deep within him when her hand found his button fly and she tugged, popping the first two buttons open.

Steve stood and pulled Cleo up by the hand. She expected to follow him back to the bedroom, but the next thing she knew she was thrown over his shoulder again. It was a definite turn on, being manhandled like that. In that moment she could finally see why all the stereotypical small, skinny girls liked it so much. Given that Cleo wasn’t a tiny thing, Steve was the first man to ever do that to her. He was her powerful six-foot-two super soldier of solid muscle, and she fully intended on appreciating every glorious inch of him.

She was quickly brought back to the matter at hand when she felt Steve’s palm trailing up the back of her thigh to her ass. He traced her entire cheek, following the edge of the fabric of her thong before he released the handful of soft flesh and brought his hand down against it just as he had the previous night.

It had no less of an intoxicating effect and she moaned out his name, begging for it again. And who was he to deny her? He brought his heavy hand down against her flesh again, that time with more force. He turned his head to the side, rucked her dress up more to bare her ass and bit into it before he laid her back against the bed.

Steve pulled his shirt off from behind his back and stared down at her like a predator would, getting ready to eat its prey. He stalked up from the foot of the bed, kissing up her legs where her dress was already pushed up. He seared a path up her thigh and pushed the fabric of the dress higher as he crawled forward. Every few inches he would stop, go back down, nose at her skin and kiss a trail higher up her body.

When Steve got up to the point where the fabric was beneath her, he reached down and tugged it up from under her back and over her head, tossing it aside. He towered above her on his knees with hunger in his eyes.

Cleo sat up and ran her hands up the planes of Steve’s abs to his chest, then back down to his fly. She took in his body, the perfect cut of muscle under his pale Irish skin, the light trail of hair from just below his navel that disappeared under the elastic band of his boxer briefs, and the obvious outline of his cock straining against his jeans.

Cleo bit her lip and met Steve’s eyes as she tugged at his fly, popping the metal buttons one by one. When she finished she grinned up at him teasingly. Her lips met the heated flesh of his stomach and she nipped playfully at his hip where he was ticklish. She kissed down lower, leaning in and lifting his erection free of its confines, kissing and licking at the head. When she slowly took him into her mouth, suckling eagerly, it drew a needy groan from his lips.

She felt him gather her hair back into the shape of a loose ponytail so he could watch her as she took him deeper. His free hand caressed the side of her face ever so softly then trailed to the back of her neck, not forcing, only feeling, following her bobbing motions.

The gentleness in his touch and the praise he murmured for her spurred her on. She was determined to make him lose control, so she hollowed her cheeks and hummed deep, moaning at the heavy drag of him on her tongue.

“Cleo,” he panted. “Fuck, you're so good. _So good, honey._ ”

She released him with a wet ‘pop’ and set about kissing and licking along his shaft, dragging her hand from root to tip and twisting just so at the top. When she went to take him back into her mouth, he caressed the back of her neck down between her shoulders and to her bra. With practiced ease, he opened the clasp and drug his hands up to the straps before sliding them down her arms.

Steve gently tugged at the back of Cleo’s hair and ordered, “Come here.”

The commanding tone of his voice sent a shiver up her spine. She released him and looked up to him. He held onto the hair he had in one hand and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her up and flush against him in one easy movement. So easy in fact, that the next thing she knew she was up on her knees against him and his mouth was again claiming hers.

The power he possessed and the strength he moved her with, while at the same time remaining gentle enough to tug her hair painlessly was dizzying. This was a man who was in control of his body. This was a man who knew exactly what her body needed.

She snaked her arms around his shoulders and kissed back desperately with everything in her. With her bra gone, she was finally free to enjoy the feeling of his skin against her own, the firm muscle of his chest pressed against the softness of her breasts. He splayed his big hands across her back and slowly reached down as he caressed every bit of her skin.

He broke their kiss and laid her back against the pillows. After he kicked his clothes the rest of the way off he was on top of her, bracketing her in with his powerful body. He kissed down her neck and clavicle, down to her breasts and his hot mouth drew one peak into his mouth. Steve alternated between teasing the bud on one side with his tongue and sucking the other hard enough to make Cleo’s toes curl.

He nipped at the underside of her breast causing her to yelp in surprise and beg his name again. That mouth, those teeth, playing her body perfectly. He met her eyes from halfway down her body and her stomach did a little flip of unease. The reminder that she was soft and scarred from the injuries and the surgery reared its ugly head.

Steve didn't miss a thing because as soon as the anxiety fluttered in her chest he knew. Saw it in her eyes clear as day. “Are you still with me, beautiful?”

He came back up to kiss her tenderly and cover her with the warmth of his body. She kissed back, hesitantly for a moment but quickly lost herself in his tenderness. He whispered words of encouragement and desire in her ear, low and soft and sweet.

Being intimate with Steve was a veritable roller coaster for Cleo. His power, his cockiness and strength was a direct contradiction of everything that was him beneath the surface. There was also a layer that few people got to experience and for that, Cleo was grateful. It was that very tenderness and gentleness she needed to submit to him fully. She wanted to submit to him, to give herself over but to do so she needed _all_ of Steve. The dominant and the sweet, the power and tenderness. She needed him to coax her out from behind her wall, and also to _take_ from her everything she so very much needed to give. And take he did, just as soon as she was back with him.

“So wet babydoll,” he praised, when his hand slid into her underwear. He pulled the fabric down her legs and stared down between her thighs like a starving man. His voice deepened and he demanded, “All this is mine now. Understand?”

His question was punctuated by his hand sliding back between her legs and teasing down to her warm, wet entrance. His mouth followed and the feeling of him licking into her, kissing her so intimately, and his beard against that sensitive skin had her whining and panting in no time.

“Mhmm,” Cleo whimpered.

He flattened his tongue and drug it deliberately through her folds time after time. Each pass was another bolt of white-hot pleasure burning into her core. When he pushed inside with one, then two fingers, he curled them in and out then drew his tongue back up, circling her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Steve covered Cleo’s hips with his strong arm and pinned her down, holding her in place and working her until she exploded in her release with a desperate litany of borderline unintelligible begging sounds. Her walls rhythmically clamped down on his fingers and her whole body shuddered.

Steve kissed back up to her mouth and the trail from his beard pinking up her soft skin filled his chest with pride and a sense of possessive ownership at the same time. His hands palmed at her soft waist again and down around her hip. He rolled his hips, pressing her down into the mattress and reached around to grab another handful of her ass. When he rolled his hips just right, she tugged at his hair again and a dark growl broke free of him. He lead her arms up above her head and held them there by her wrists in one big, firm hand. When he reached down again he teased her opening and covered himself with her wetness, lining up at her entrance.

He stared down at her, eyes dark and voice deeper. “I’m gonna make you mine now,” he started, teasing her opening with the head of his cock again and drawing out little begging noises from her. “You want that?”

She was so enamored by the way he took control for her, that all she could do was whimper and nod. So many years of being on her own, always making the decisions and keeping herself closed off. Giving him permission to take care of her, allowing herself to be _his,_ it was everything all at once.

Cleo’s hips moved of their own volition, chasing his body, his touch. She was already so far gone the only thing she could focus on was how much she wanted Steve to fill her. To claim her and never let her go.

 _“Please…”_ she begged, her eyes doing their level best to stay focused on him above her. Her whole body buzzed with anticipation almost to the point of pain but she didn’t want to look away from him.

“I need you, Steve.”

 _“Yeah,_ you got me, babydoll.”

He pushed forward into her, and she arched her back on a strong cry of pure bliss, which he greedily caught in his mouth. And _oh,_ how she’d gone without this, without his touch, the way he knew exactly what her body needed she had no idea. It was almost too much.

Steve pulled back, his thick cock dragging against her walls before pushing back in deeper and burying himself to the hilt. He ground down against her with his pelvis and the friction of it sent an aftershock through her core.

He released his hold on Cleo’s wrists and bracketed her in with his forearms. His hands gingerly caressed her face and hair and he lovingly kissed down her jaw.

“You’re so beautiful, honey. You know that?” he spoke softly against her ear, peppering her skin with kisses. “My sweet girl, so soft, so goddamn sexy.”

Cleo found her voice again when Steve began moving rhythmically within her. She begged his name and kissed him.

“Yours. I’m yours.”

Cleo ran her fingers back through Steve’s hair and his new Pavlovian response took over when she tugged. He growled against her skin and bit her soft flesh, fucking into her harder. The harder he fucked her, the louder her cries got. Soon her eyes closed and tears began to gather in the corners threatening to spill over. She almost didn't realize when they did. Not until he slowed his movements and began kissing them away.

“Cleo, honey… My sweet girl, are you okay?” he murmured and his voice had softened with concern. He tenderly held her cheek and he swiped at another tear with the pad of his thumb.

She bit her lip and smiled up at him the most beatific look he'd ever seen. “Don't stop, Steve. Please,” she begged. “It's _so good._ You make me feel so good.”

And god, her voice. Light and floating and full of pure joy. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he ever heard so he did as she asked and kept going.

The way he moved within her, so powerful, had her body coiling tight. A few more thrusts was all it took and she fell apart again, pulling his hair harder.

When she did, a low growl left his lips and he bit down against her neck. “Fuck! Cleo, you feel so good. I'm gonna come, honey. Fuck, I'm gonna come.”

Their eyes met and she nodded, giving him the signal to let go. He pounded into her harder, faster and his big hand gripped into the soft flesh of her hip. He held her down and fucked her into the bed with all of his strength. The look of pure awe on his face as she took him was something she'd never forget.

His grunts grew louder, deeper, and she felt the moment he exploded deep within her. The feeling of him coming hot and hard, deep within her set her own body burning in hot release and her walls milked him through his orgasm. He kept fucking her through it until he collapsed above her, hot and heavy.

As much as she loved to feel his weight above her, it became a bit too much and she tapped against his shoulder and squeaked out a little, “Steve.”

He immediately lifted off of her enough for her to catch her breath and peppered her face with kisses, soft and gentle. A low rumble of laughter bubbled up from his chest. “You okay honey?”

She nodded, kissing him back until he moved onto his back and pulled her into his side. He ran his fingers through her hair and pressed kisses the top of her head. The position was very much theirs, had been the previous night when he carried her back to bed. Though the events surrounding him holding her like he was were different, the position was just as intimate. 

"Do we have time for a nap?" Cleo yawned against Steve's chest once her breathing returned to normal.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight before releasing her to bring her lips up for a kiss. "For you? Anything. I'll be right back."

When Steve got up, he pulled the duvet over Cleo's body to keep her warm. She watched lazily as he walked out into the living space of their suite and she giggled to herself. She'd never get tired of staring at his naked body. It was so perfect- powerful and strong. Just like his heart. He came back with a bottle of water and brought it to her lips, encouraging her to drink which she did.

Moments later he brought a warm cloth from the bathroom and gently cleaned her, kissing the marks that were already forming on her hip. He pulled back and met her eyes with a look midpoint between guilt and apprehension. He lightly trailed his fingers across the marked skin and reached up to kiss the area between her neck and shoulder where he'd bitten her in his passion. 

"I'm so sorry, honey. How bad did I hurt you?"

She caught his jaw in her hands and pulled his lips to hers. After she kissed him tenderly, she met his eyes.

"You didn't hurt me, Steve. I wanted you- all of you. Understand? Everything you give me, I can take it. I trust you. You won't hurt me."

He looked down her body, then back up with a darkness in his eyes. "You don't mind me markin' you up?"

She cocked a brow at him and teased his lips again before replying. "I  _want_ you marking me up. In fact, I think you maybe missed a few spots."

"I'm gonna have to fix that."

"Oh yeah?" she giggled. When he climbed back in bed with her, already hard again she gasped. "Oh! God yes!"

 

 

 

Translation:

 _French_ to English]

 _Non. Rien de nouveau._ =  No. Nothing new.

 _Le Massacreur_ = The Butcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while there's explicit consent here, there's no discussion between the characters about safe sex. Relatively speaking, Cleo can't get pregnant and Steve's all super-soldier immune to EVERYTHING so the risk is non-existent. It got a little rough but there are three key words: consent, consent, consent. 
> 
> Either way, this is purely fictional entertainment, so, there's that. Use your brains, kids. "It's the lump about three feet above your ass." (All-time favorite line from A League of Their Own) ;)
> 
> Okay, I'm done being your mom.


End file.
